


Home For The Holidays

by Byrdie



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Crossover, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-28
Updated: 2003-04-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 11:32:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrdie/pseuds/Byrdie
Summary: Wouldn't wanna spoil it. But.ye gods! I finally have an angst bunny. They're *so* hard to hang onto, at least for me anyway.





	Home For The Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Home For The Holidays

### Home For The Holidays

#### by MadByrd

  


Date: Wednesday, December 25, 2002 8:11 PM 
    
    
         Title: Home For The Holidays
         Author: MadByrd
         Category: Holiday ficlet. A crossover with the Sentinel.
         Pairings: Jim/Blair/Mulder/Krycek 
         Feedback: Better than chestnuts roasting on an open fire. So
         send some this way: 
         Rating: NC-17 (someday I'll write something cleaner
         ::smirk:: Just not _this_ day ;-)
         Summary: Wouldn't wanna spoil it. But...ye gods! I finally
         have an angst bunny. They're _so_ hard to hang onto, at
         least for me anyway.
         Spoilers, Warnings, Other Stuff You Might Wanna Know: No
         major spoilers, probably no minor ones, either.  <g> Takes
         place in an alternate universe where: (1) everybody knows
         that aliens and Sentinels exist, and (2) nobody gives a hang
         about the gender or number of spouses one has, provided  all
         parties are legal and willing.
         Note: Written for the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge
         situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent 
         Disclaimers: No, they're not mine. They just moved in here
         when TPTB kicked 'em out on the street. So it ain't Pet Fly
         or Universal Studios? So I'm broke most of the time? Big
         deal, at least I know how to keep 'em happy. And that's what
         really counts.
    

* * *

**CASCADE, WASHINGTON**

*"Tis the season to be jolly, fa-la-la-la-lah--"* 

Whack! A long black tail lashed out, knocking the radio onto the floor, where it died in about a dozen pieces and a most undignified manner. "Fa-la-la my furry ass!" Jim Ellison snarled. Needless to say, he was not in a holiday mood, despite all the bright lights and decorations. And there were a _lot_ of decorations. Fox had gone all out, what with this being their first holiday season together. Hanukkah, Yule and two Christmases -- Western and Russian Orthodox -- made for a very festive household. Too bad half his family was on the other side of the continent and wouldn't be back until the scum they were hunting was either dead or behind bars. Jim knew which he preferred and he was quite certain Alex agreed. Unfortunately, the Bureau wouldn't see it that way. Idiots! He growled an extremely rude Chopek insult that often led to mortal combat and curled up on the sofa to start grooming himself. Not that he needed to, he was just... 

"Restless again, love?" Blair ignored the wreckage, ignored his rumbling stomach, which was insisting on more solid nourishment than an algae shake, and put his arms around his cranky, catty Sentinel. Jim snuffled. "I know, I miss them too. Damn it, this is _so_ not fair." It had been a very stressful month, what with school and the wedding, moving into a new home -- the loft was way too small for four adult males, two of whom tended to spend a lot of their time as huge felines, a panther and a snow leopard -- and now this case. Throw the Silly Season into the mix and well... you get the picture. The one bright spot in it all was that at least Blair's classes were over until January, so that while his mate would be prowling the streets again, he wouldn't be doing it without his Guide. Or on all fours, which was easier on Jim's heightened senses but played havoc with the nerves of Cascade's good citizens (most notably the Mayor and half his aldermen) who still weren't quite used to having a full Sentinel in their midst. Aliens they'd been dealing with, ever since the Rebel Alliance had established an embassy after the fall of the Consortium -- thanks in no small part to Mulder  & Krycek -- but a cop who was a walking crime lab and could be human or not as he chose? That was an entirely different matter. That made people very jumpy, especially the ones with something to hide. 

"Fair or not, that's the way it is," Jim sighed into the soft tangle of curls, thankful that their link permitted him to be understood -- but _only_ by Blair, Fox or Alex -- as easily as if he were speaking English. "I guess I'll have to get used to it, after all it comes with the territory." He added rather wistfully, "It's just ... I really wanted the holidays to be," he was going to say happier but changed his mind, "extra special this year." 

"And they will be." Suddenly Blair was absolutely certain of the fact. "Come on, I'll fix us lunch." 

Ellison snorted. Yawned a big yawn, the only purpose to display a very impressive set of canines. "Okay. But feed me sprouts again and you'll _be_ lunch, Darwin." 

Blair grinned, got up and walked over to the refrigerator. Halfway there, he stuck out his tongue at the pussy cat and wiggled a sassy backside. "Promises, promises." 

The panther pounced. 

Twenty minutes later, Blair was the one purring and licking up the cream. 

* * *

**SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON, DC**

Alex woke up cold and alone. The Beloved, the Guide, was gone. For the third night in a row. He wished he'd never agreed to this, but the separation was as necessary as it was painful. Of all the agents in the whole damn F.B.I. -- or so it seemed to him anyway -- only Mulder and Krycek had the right qualifications for the job. So they'd taken the earliest flight out of Cascade, only to be told on arrival that Fox would be going it alone on the undercover assignment. Alex, to say the least, had not been pleased. He'd actually growled at A.D. Simmons and was sorely tempted to shift forms and express his disapproval the old fashioned way, with fang and claw, until Mulder had taken him aside and explained that there was every chance the suspect would recognize his partner, thus blowing the entire operation. And they could not afford to let another terrorist slip away. So he'd given in, although it went against every instinct to be parted even temporarily from his Guide and primary husband. Now here he was, wide awake at four in the morning --two days before Christmas, could the Fates be more cruel? -- feeling absolutely miserable. He'd been in the spirit world again with his Fox. Loving his Fox. Being loved in turn by the Panther and Wolf, Sentinel and Guide of the Great City. Screaming in ecstasy as his mates brought him to a long, soul-shattering climax. 

Finding -- gods, not again! -- his thighs and belly covered in half-dried come and his prick still maddeningly hard. No use to touch it; he'd tried that before and knew all too well he wouldn't be able to obtain relief on his own. No use his changing shapes to try and get rid of the problem either; that only seemed to exacerbate his condition. Which left him with two equally unpleasant options: ignore it and try to get some sleep -- hopeless! -- or drag himself into the bathroom and stand under an icy shower till his goose bumps got goose bumps and started bitching at him about the cold. 

Never one to take the easy way out, Alex Krycek, former Rat Boy, now Sentinel of Earth, rolled carefully onto his side and pulled the blankets up around him, seeking warmth. His groin throbbed and his eyes watered. Tears streaked his face and he carelessly let them fall. 

Because the ache in his balls was nothing -- no, _less_ than nothing -- compared to the unremitting agony in his heart. 

* * *

The Lavender Parakeet was a low-class dive on the seamy side of town. A hazy,smoke filled throwback to the 1930's... in the worst possible way. Hardcases and wanna-bes of every description might kick up their heels at other clubs along the Strip; those who hung out here were the real deal. Genuine Grade A scum, the absolute bottom of the barrel. 

The joint did serve a mean gin-and-tonic, though. And the band played music you could actually dance to. Assuming you'd come here to dance. Most people came here to deal; be it sex or drugs, guns or information, there was always a ready market. 

Fox Mulder leaned over the table and whispered something in his companion's ear.The redhead with the Mr. Universe physique blushed and grinned. He let his eyes roam heatedly over the other's trim, leather-clad body, licked his lips in a very provocative fashion, then reached out and squeezed his "date's" hand. Message received and understood. 

This was it. The informant had finally stopped jerking them around and given them the straight goods. Their suspect had just walked in, flanked by an army of muscle. She was a brunette now -- big improvement on the bleach bottle blonde look -- but pure piranha through and through, according to her rap sheet and Alex, who'd worked with her a couple of times while playing at being a Consortium thug named Arntzen. Now that Spender was gone, she'd found herself another sponser, one with ties to some really heavy hitters in Afghanistan and the Middle East. 

The same filth responsible for the slaughter of innocents on 9-11. Mulder swallowed hard. Clenched his fists. Ellison and Krycek were right; some bastards, their crimes too great for mercy, did not deserve to live. For the good of the tribe -- Humanity -- they had to be put down. One did not, could not, permit a rabid hyena to run loose and infect the whole jungle. And it was sheer insanity to think one could be cured. The best thing, the only thing to do, was to put a bullet through its diseased brain and end the misery. Unfortunately, they needed Marita alive. Not necessarily healthy, but alive. The Agents moved in. 

All hell broke loose. 

* * *

**DULLES AIRPORT, CHRISTMAS EVE**

The place was a bloody madhouse and he wanted nothing more than to be out of it. On the next jet and gone, back to good old Cascade with its never-ending rain. Where there was nothing to worry about but everyday crooks and the odd homicidal maniac and visits from his annoying in-laws. Days and nights of sheer bliss wrapped up in Jim's sweet loving and Blair's warm cuddles -- in bed or out, Sandburg just loved to snuggle. He wouldn't even mind it if the little scamp sat on him again and tickled him totally breathless as "punishment" for all his wisecracks about tongue or worse, tofu burgers. Oh, how he longed to spend Christmas at home. 

So, apparently, did the rest of the country. And they had all congregated right here. In this terminal, in this lineup, waiting for luggage inspections -- he only had one bag, a carry-on, he always traveled light -- then tickets and boarding passes -- cripes, were they _all_ on the same flight? He hoped not. Anyway, it was enough to get on an ordinary person's last nerve, let alone a Sentinel's. At least he could turn his dials down and tune the racket out. His mate didn't have that option. 

He did have one hell of a shiner, though. Alex gave a soft growl of sheer annoyance and frustration. _Nobody_ touched the Guide with impunity. Lucky for her the bitch was cooling her heels in a maximum security cell. Otherwise, he'd have simply ripped her throat out. He still would, if that Intelligence guy was stupid enough to let her go in exchange for turning on her bosses, like she had on the Cancerman. 

Eventually their flight number was called and they boarded the airliner. The petite stewardess was scared half out of her wits by the sight of him. Krycek was in his transitory form: a seven-foot tall humanoid male with big jade eyes, thick, white fur with black swirls and splotches, a feline face and a bushy tail almost as long as she was tall. Poor thing had obviously never seen a Sentinel, except maybe on TV. But she got over it when Mulder flashed his badge -- Alex refused point blank to wear a collar, claiming that it was undignified. If the fools couldn't recognize his bonding bracelets, too bad about 'em. Soon they were ready for takeoff. No sooner was the "please unfasten your seatbelts" announcement made than he put his tail to good use by snagging Fox right into his lap with it. As usual, the Beloved protested; however Alex's nose told him that he didn't really mean it. He closed his eyes and settled in for the long ride home. 

* * *

**CASCADE, LATE AFTERNOON ON CHRISTMAS DAY**

The sticky, sweaty, sated jumble of flesh and fur on the living room floor -- there was a perfectly good custom-made bed upstairs but as usual they hadn't made it that far -- possessed but a single common thought: thank God the neighbours weren't home. 

Then again, they probably _had_ been heard all the way to Kansas. 

* * *

CPD, THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE, DECEMBER 28th 

Simon Banks nearly swallowed his cigar. Again. His best detective had come back to work looking more relaxed than he'd seen him in weeks, hell, months. Long before the whole Naomi catastrophe, at any rate. Ellison also looked as though he'd recently been thoroughly, passionately and quite expertly mauled. 

"Whoa! What pack of wild animals did _you_ run into lately?" Jim smirked. "Just the usual menagerie. Besides, you're a fine one to talk." He indicated the fresh bite marks on Simon's neck -- no doubt the Captain had been hoping his buttoned up collar would hide them. Almost, but not quite. "Looks like Rafe and Brown worked you over real good." Simon flushed. Did everybody know? Was he wearing this big neon sign that said "Just Got Laid"? Then again, to a Sentinel, he probably was. "Oh, by the way, congratulations. When's the ceremony? You know we'll all be there with bells on." 

"Huh?" Oh, _that_ was dignified. 

"The wedding." Simon blinked. "You _do_ plan to marry them soon, I hope. After all, it's been scientifically proven that children do best when their parents stay together." He goggled. Children? Parents? What the fuck was Ellison babbling about? Was there Golden in the fruitcake or something? 

"You mean you didn't know? Rafe's a hybrid, like Blair and Alex." No, he hadn't known. Odds were that Rafe didn't either. They had no secrets from each other, at least not serious ones. "Judging from his scent -- and a few other things -- I'd say he's in heat." 

"In...heat?" There, that wasn't too bad. At least it hadn't come out a girly little squeal. 

Jim nodded. He was really enjoying this. Payback for all the times his boss had made him squirm. "So's Alex. Don't look at me like that, it's perfectly normal." The smirk was now an outrageous ear-to-ear grin. "And unless I miss my guess, we've got another..." He made quite a production out of counting on his fingers. "Eight-and-a-half months before the stork gets here." 

This time Simon Banks _did_ swallow the damn cigar. 

* * *

**HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to MadByrd


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